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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905788">scrambled</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerkook/pseuds/flowerkook'>flowerkook</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pilot!Reader, Reader-Insert, black squadron!reader, for now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:13:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerkook/pseuds/flowerkook</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Poe thinks about kissing you, the thought is fleeting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Karé Kun/Temmin "Snap" Wexley, Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>don't really know where this is going but this work was inspired by the song SCRAMBLED by Havelock, particularly the following lines:<br/>Should I kiss, marry, or call you a friend? I don’t know / Can we start over again / Mixed messages wrapped in a text that you wrote / Scrambled my head like an egg</p><p>also wrote this first chapter between the hours of 2am and 4am and did not edit once so beware!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time Poe thinks about kissing you, the thought is fleeting. A quick shake of his head and a large swig from his pint of Gamorrean ale is enough to push the thought out of his mind and refocus himself on the story Jessika is weaving, her hands flying animatedly through the air as she recounts the events of their last mission. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The small tavern on D’Qar, maintained solely to keep up the morale of the Resistance, is bustling with the return of Black Squadron from a particularly dangerous and long mission scouting out and eliminating a First Order communications relay base on an uninhabited planet. With no cover of a local population and little intelligence on the base itself, the past week had consisted of trying to get specs of the outpost before ultimately destroying it and engaging in a rather drawn out skirmish with the TIE fighters protecting the planet. Jess and L’ulo’s X-wings barely survived the jump to lightspeed to make the journey back to D’Qar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Word of the narrow success of the mission had spread through the base even before Black Squadron had landed back on home turf and spirits were high. It had been a while since the Resistance had gotten a win like this and the tavern was filled to capacity. Poe had insisted that all his pilots get a celebratory drink together and the lingering adrenaline of the successful mission had all of you agreeing. Still in your orange flight suits, you, Poe, Snap, Karé, L’ulo, and Jess stick out like a sore thumb at your table even if people weren’t seeking you out to congratulate you. Snap and Karé are speaking in hushed tones, leaning into each other ignoring the world moving around them. L’ulo is staring at his drink as if it insulted him personally, dealing with the exhaustion from a long week. Poe sits across from you and Jess, silently sipping his ale as his thoughts fly through his mind, losing focus as the adrenaline wears off and the weariness begins to set in. You sit next to Jess, a lazy smile playing on your face as you fiddle with the half empty pint in front of you. The small crowd gathered around Black Squadron’s table is half chatting animatedly, half following Jess’s movements with enraptured faces as she recreates the trajectory of the TIE fighter that had been chasing her, enthusiastically mimicking the familiar whine of the enemy engine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Poe watches as Jess rotates her hand to illustrate a barrel roll and chuckles quietly to himself as she insists that her fancy flying outmaneuvered the silly amateur First Order pilots. She claps her hands together loudly and flings them outward, regaling the crowd with how you had baited a TIE fighter into tailing you closely enough that its pilot couldn’t see it coming when you dropped your starfighter out of the way to reveal another TIE fighter, the explosion resulting from their crash strong enough to throw off the rest of the First Order pilots and allow Black Squadron to slip into lightspeed without being followed. Poe’s chest can’t help but swell a little with pride at your spectacular flying and the well deserved praise being directed your way. He glances at you to see you taking a sip of your drink, hiding a shy smile behind the large glass. Poe makes a mental note to tell you later that that was some of the best flying he’d ever seen in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When you place your drink down, cheeks a little rosier than before, he turns his attention back to Jess who is revisiting that moment of brilliant flying. “She pulled down with a TIE fighter on her tail and another one kissing her nose with not even a nanosecond to spare. They couldn’t’ve seen it coming!” Jess yells and this time when her arms go flying, one narrowly misses your forehead. You duck on instinct and let out a short laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All in a day’s work,” you say nonchalantly, though Poe can see you’re fidgeting with your glass again, conscious of the attention on you. This simple statement seems to rile up the crowd which erupts in cheers at your quiet response. Your grin grows a little wider before you tug your lower lip between your teeth nervously. Poe’s breath catches in his throat at that action and he cannot bring himself to tear his eyes away from your lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re a little more chapped than normal, he notes, probably a result of a week long mission rationing water and food and consuming whatever was available at the desert planet they had been refueling at located in the same system as the First Order outpost. Chapstick wasn’t considered essential for a mission and would not have been among the bare supplies you had packed before take off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he can even dissect when and why he had established a “normal” for how your lips looked, you release your bottom lip from your bite and Poe has trouble finding his breath again as he fixates on how your lip is a little swollen from the pressure of your teeth and tongue. For the second time that night, Poe thinks about tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and slowly pulling back to see it red and puffy and how your lips might curve into a shy smile as he went in for another kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>L’ulo places his glass down on the table with a thunk, snapping Poe out of his thoughts and he realizes he’s been zoned out, staring at your lips. He moves his gaze upwards and sees he’s been caught as your eyes meet his. You look at him quizzically, but he shrugs you off, hoping you’ll chalk it up to exhaustion and the alcohol coursing through him. It seems like it works because you turn back to Jess without anything further. Beside him, L’ulo scrapes his chair back and stands up, clasping Poe’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think I need to call it a night, Commander,” he says. Snap and Karé cut off their conversation abruptly and seem to come to the same conclusion, standing up as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Poe looks up at them. “I think that’s best. No drills tomorrow, sleep in,” he orders. His pilots sigh in relief at the statement. He turns back to you and Jess as the other pilots are leaving. “You too Jess. Think it’s time to head out.” Jess nods in defeat, though she seems like she still has enough energy to tell stories for another hour. The three of you stand up simultaneously and slowly make your way out of the tavern, pausing every few seconds as another person stops you to congratulate you for the mission. Poe takes the brunt of the praise, smiling through his fatigue. When you finally make it out of the tavern and to the barracks, Jess bids the two of you goodnight, taking off in the opposite direction from yours and Poe’s quarters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two of you walk in silence until you reach your quarters. You stop and turn to Poe. “This is me,” you tell him, as if he doesn’t know from the countless times he’s walked back with you from a post mission celebration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitates, as if he wants to say something, but decides against it. You tilt your head in curiosity, but say nothing, turning to your door to type in your key. As you’re reaching for the keypad he says, “That was some impressive flying today.” Your cheeks heat up and you turn to him with a shy smile on your face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, commander”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it,” he says, quietly, his voice serious like he thinks you don’t believe him. “Probably the best flying I’ve ever seen in my life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your chest blooms at his compliment. Hearing praise from Poe was not uncommon. He believed in the value of telling his pilots when they did something well, but you had never been on the receiving end of praise quite like this. “Thank you,” you say, sincerely. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and release it again, so quickly that Poe would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. “Goodnight Poe,” you tell him, typing in your key and entering your quarters, closing the door behind you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Poe stands perfectly still, staring at your door long after you’ve shut it, replaying the way you had smiled at his compliment over and over again. For the third time that night, Poe thinks about turning your head to face him with a finger under your chin, and dipping down to place his lips against yours. With an exasperated sigh he runs his hands through his hair, turning to make his way down the hall to his own quarters. When he wakes up, he’ll blame all of this on his lack of sleep and the strength of Gamorrean ale, but at the moment he cannot think of anything but kissing you.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You take a trip down memory lane and remember how exactly you ended up on Black Squadron.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sun is warm and comforting on your skin when you wake the day after celebrating your successful mission. You fight to pry your eyes open against the weight of the exhaustion from the taxing week-long mission and a night of drinking. Poe’s praise from the night before is still fresh in your mind and you replay it over and over again as you curl up in your bed. Poe had said no drills today so you were content in deciding to give up and letting your heavy eyelids remain closed while you think back to the exact words he had said. “Probably the best flying I’ve ever seen in my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory of the compliment is enough to have a smile curling on your face in pride. You recall the first time Poe had ever seen you fly and wonder if he had somehow seen this in your future. You hadn’t been a remarkable student during your training for the Starfighter Corps. You ranked above average in every class and you knew that the leadership hadn’t really expected you to do anything except fill out their ranks. Then when they finally put you in an X-Wing, your training supervisors had looked on in fear as you mangled an Antilles Intercept. When you landed the star fighter, you could see the training supervisors speaking with their heads low through the transparisteel of the cockpit, no doubt discussing which non-flying position to relegate you to given the basic maneuver you had just failed to perform. But you begged them to let you finish your training before evaluating their performance and they had agreed as per academy policy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You spent every night of the following month hopping into a model T-65 X-Wing. From 2030 hours to 0100 hours, the flight logs were empty except for your name. You logged nearly double the hours of the other cadets that month. In a week and a half, you had conquered the Antilles Intercept, but your evaluation wasn’t until another two and a half weeks, so you kept at it, paranoid that any performance less than perfect would nix your chances of becoming a pilot. It paid off in the level of comfort you felt inside an X-wing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Night after night of flying the same maneuver meant that you could identify every knob, button, stick, and control in the starfighter by touch alone. Each part of the cockpit became an extension of your own body and by the end of your third week of night practices, you could execute the Antilles Intercept flawlessly with your eyes closed. The remaining week of practice was what you blamed for how you ultimately scored on your evaluation for the maneuver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boredom had overcome you and flying the same form over and over again nudged you towards experimenting. A couple of days of adding flourishes and you realized that you could accomplish the same goal of the maneuver but with a higher likelihood of throwing off enemy fighters if you did a tight spin on the rise and recovered from the pitch up earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the day of your evaluation came and unbeknownst to you, Poe Dameron, just a captain at the time, had been sent to the Starfighter Corps training base by General Leia Organa to speak with the best performing trainees and see if any would be fit for an elite squadron of pilots. By this point he had already asked L’ulo L’ampar to join him and the Duros man could never say no to his best friend’s son. He had found another young pilot, Snap, in the Resistance Starfighter Corps and the whole lot of them looked up to the dashing captain, so Poe’s offer was one Snap couldn’t refuse. Combined with the fact that his mother was Norra Wexley, Snap was practically born for this role.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe had just landed at the base as your trainee batch was beginning evaluations. He was standing in the hangar, maybe thirty feet away from your group, talking to a few pilots that had been recommended to him by the training instructors. They were hanging on his every word and the conversation was exhausting him as he tried to steer them towards talking about their own skills and away from stories of his missions that had been spreading as legends through the Resistance. At the first roar of an X-Wing engine, he sighed in relief at the excuse to end the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to observe this evaluation,” he said to the pilots around him. Some of them grumbled in disappointment and walked away, while a couple stuck around, desperate to remain in proximity to Poe, as if somehow his skill and charisma might rub off on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were third in line for the test already sitting in your X-Wing with your helmet on. While you waited for the two trainees before you to finish their evaluations, you ran through the customary pre-flight checks, calling out the actions under your breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuel pressure, check. Oil pressure, check.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your fingers ghosted over each gauge and button as you verified they were indicating the right values.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Engine, check. Hydraulics, check.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re next, takeoff in two minutes,” the voice of your supervisor crackled through your helmet. The nerves started to build as the time for takeoff came closer, but you tried to reassure yourself that you had practiced this maneuver for thirty nights straight and you would do fine. With a shaky breath you went through the rest of your preflight check.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Landing gear, check.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One minute to takeoff,” your supervisor said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Air pressure, check. Transparisteel seal, check.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“30 seconds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Supplemental oxygen, check,” you whispered, finishing the checklist with your hand hovering over the oxygen gauge. You clenched your hands in your lap, waiting for the command.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a deep breath, you pushed the throttle forward gently, easing off the permacrete and into the sky. All of your fear disappeared as your muscles guided you through the flight maneuver. You didn’t even have to think about your hands on the controls, they moved on instinct, your body having memorized the motions. You finished your Antilles Intercept with your personal touch, the early drop off the pitch and you landed the X-Wing with a grin on your face and adrenaline pumping through your veins. That was the best you had ever flown the maneuver and you clambered out of your starfighter hurriedly, eager to receive your score.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell were you thinking?” is the first thing you heard when your boots hit the ground. The grin dropped from your face as you tugged your helmet off and held it loosely in front of you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was incredibly reckless!” your supervisor yelled, moving closer to you as his voice got louder. “In a dogfight you would’ve been a hair away from a First Order fighter and he would’ve killed you! This is a simple Antilles Intercept and you still managed to screw it up, even with a month of practice. I knew we should’ve grounded you after your first flight. Why did you change the maneuver? Do you think you’re better than the great Captain Wedge Antilles?” He ended his tirade with his finger pointed at you accusingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked to the side, trying to blink away your tears as best as possible, unable to bring yourself to say anything in response. The whole hangar had frozen to watch the interaction and you had never felt more humiliated. Until you looked up and caught Poe Dameron’s gaze. Perfect. Not only had you embarrassed yourself to your supervisors, your training batch, and every trainee in the hangar, you had also made an ass of yourself in front of the best pilot in the Resistance. Unable to hold it in any longer, you let a tear slip out as you turned back to your supervisor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of my sight,” he said, harshly. You nodded meekly and turned around, walking back into the base and to your barracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you reached your barracks, you fell into your bunk, completely spent. You sobbed into your pillow for an hour until you ran out of tears. A growl from your stomach told you that you had to get some food, even if you didn’t want to do anything but lay on your bunk and wallow. Moving on autopilot, you walked to the refresher and took a quick shower before making your way to the mess hall, going through the motions absently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You grabbed your food as quickly as possible and sat at an empty table, hoping to avoid conversation and get back to the barracks as soon as you could. Even if you wouldn’t have privacy there, at least you could pretend to fall asleep before the other trainees in your barracks returned. Though you doubted you would actually be able to fall asleep early after a routine of practice flights every day until 0100 hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you were pushing your spoon through the sludge on your tray and mentally plotting the best path to avoid people on the way back to the barracks, a tray was placed beside yours. When you looked to your left, Lumiya, another pilot in your group was smiling gently at you. You offered her a weak smile in return. It was all you could muster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t feel too bad,” she said. “Everyone will forget about the yelling now that the scores are out.” You knew she was just trying to be nice but you still cringed at the reminder. “You can make it up on the next flight test anyway,” she continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You looked at her in confusion. “I’m pretty sure I failed that evaluation and they’re going to make me refuel Starfighters for the rest of my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t heard?” she asked around a bite of her bread ration. When you continued to stare at her with no indication of understanding, she swallowed her bite and answered the unspoken question. “You got a 61.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You had passed. By one point, yes, but you had passed. Which meant you could still be a pilot. “How is that even possible?” you asked, eyes widening in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t really know. Honestly, I thought they were gonna fail you.” Lumiya at least had the tact to look sheepish when you glared at her. You put your face in your hands and groaned in relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbeknownst to you, Poe had watched your Antilles Intercept in awe. Your final move would’ve had the belly of your starfighter grazing the enemy and left any other adversaries with no choice but to take out one of their own if they tried to shoot you out of the sky. Your flight had been smooth and controlled, characteristics that Poe knew came from practice, not recklessness. He was stunned when the first comment towards your performance wasn’t praise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After you left the hangar, he walked up to your supervisor. “Lieutenant, I need that pilot’s name and service number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The poor officer had misunderstood Poe’s intention. “Don’t worry Captain Dameron. She won’t be a pilot for much longer, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe’s anger flared at this. “What do you mean?” he asked, careful to keep his voice low so the other trainees wouldn’t overhear the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well after that abysmal performance, she’ll be lucky if she gets close enough to another X-Wing to clean its wing flaps. I’m going to fail her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not.” The training supervisor looked up in shock and attempted to splutter out an argument but Poe didn’t let him get that far. “I outrank you don’t I?” That was enough to silence him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked away with your information, the trajectory of your flight replaying in his mind. He knew he wanted to add that maneuver variation to his team’s drills. The rest of his day on the training base was spent being followed around by eager trainees. He watched a few other evaluations, but none of the flights were noteworthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first moment Poe got to himself was on the flight back to D’Qar. He opted to wait a bit before jumping to lightspeed, if only to give himself a little more time to breathe before having to go back to ‘Captain Dameron of the Resistance’ mode. With the stars moving slowly around him and the planets behind him shrinking to nothingness, he accessed the datapad in his console and pulled up the files associated with your service number, his rank granting him permission to see the information. He saw the score for your last evaluation and snorted. Of course, the lieutenant gave you the lowest passing score possible. With a roll of his eyes, he swiped past the evaluation to your flight logs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been right in his assessment of you. Your flight logs showed four and half hours of flying every night for the last month. He pulled up the logs from one of the pilots General Organa had recommended and placed them side by side. Your file showed nearly double the amount of flying time. Poe knew from first hand experience that a flashy pilot without the experience to back it up was a show off and would probably get himself killed. But a pilot who flew unorthodox maneuvers because of hours of practice showed a dedication that was invaluable. He closed both files with a mental note to keep an eye on you as a potential candidate for his team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the following weeks, you struggled to learn the Skywalker Swoop under a supervisor who seemed to have it out for you. Embarrassed by his confrontation with Poe, the lieutenant was taking it out on you, but to you it just seemed like he hated you for no reason. You fell back into the routine of your night practices and you mastered the new maneuver even quicker than the last; your work on the Antilles Intercept paid off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe had made it a routine of checking your flight logs everyday and without fail, the four and a half extra hours of the previous night were marked for flight every single time. When he saw that you had another evaluation in a few days for the Skywalker Swoop, he made an excuse to General Organa about recruitment and she approved his visit to the training base.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day of your flight evaluation, you found yourself on the permacrete with your training batch, but this time, standing next to your training supervisor was none other than Captain Dameron. Of course, he was here to see you embarrass yourself again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your flight test was near perfect, from your own evaluation, though you did pull out of the downward fall slightly later than regulation indicated you should. It’s not that the ground rushing at you didn’t terrify you, but after three weeks of practice, you knew by instinct the exact last moment you could pull up without crashing into the planet’s surface and destroying your starfighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you were landing, Poe leaned over and spoke quietly to the supervisor. “Mark her for Black Squadron and send her to the D’Qar base when she finishes her training.” The lieutenant couldn’t do anything but sigh defeatedly and do as he was ordered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time when you climbed out of the X-Wing, your supervisor was completely silent, though his brows were furrowed in anger and he refused to meet your eye. Beside him, Captain Dameron caught your eye and nodded, a small smile playing on his face. You fought to keep your expression neutral as you joined the rest of the trainees to observe the remaining evaluations, though you couldn’t fight the pride swelling in your chest. Even your low score of 73 revealed to you later that night, no doubt a result of the lieutenant’s injured pride, wasn’t enough to tamp the warm feeling that had settled in your chest as a result of gaining the approval of the Resistance’s best pilot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the last you saw of him until you graduated from training. You were preparing to fly out and the newly minted Resistance pilots were getting their assignments. You stood holding Lumiya’s hand, a nervous smile on both your faces as the officers walked through the barracks notifying the pilots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the officer finally got to the two of you, he called Lumiya’s assignment first. “Balelutt. Blue Squadron, D’Qar. Your commanding officer is Lieutenant Tallissan Lintra” You squeezed Lumiya’s hand in congratulations as her face split into a smile. You expected nothing less than such an important position for the highest ranked trainee in your class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the officer read out your last name from his datapad and your stomach flipped in something between excitement and apprehension. “Black Squadron, D’Qar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you could stop yourself you interrupted the officer. “What’s Black Squadron?” You turned to Lumiya and she looked at you equally confused. Neither of you had heard of the unit before today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“New squadron in the Starfighter Corps apparently,” the officer shrugged, annoyed that you had interrupted him, but he continued. “Your commanding officer is Commander Poe Dameron.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You froze. You stood with your mouth agape in shock even as the officer walked away. Lumiya squealed in excitement and shook your shoulders. You were dead middle in your class and your supervisors definitely hated you. There must have been some kind of mistake and you said as much to Lumiya.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up,” she told you. “You deserve this. No one on this base has spent more hours in an X-Wing than you have. Plus now we can still hang out on D’Qar!” she said to you, and you let her words sink in, returning her smile. Despite your doubts, Lumiya was excited enough for the both of you and you allowed yourself to get excited too, though there was a voice nagging you in the back of your mind that told you not get your hopes up and that whatever error had occurred would be fixed when you landed on D’Qar. But when you stepped off the space shuttle later that day and onto the permacrete hangar floor surrounded by a humid jungle, Poe Dameron himself was there to greet you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to Black Squadron. I’ll show you to your quarters,” he said, grabbing your modest duffel from you with one hand and clapping his other hand on your shoulder. “You’re going to fit right in here.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know this chapter is also low on dialogue bc that is my weakness but upcoming chapters will have more! Now that i have established some exposition. However this is the most I have ever written for a fic and I feel quite good about that :D I don't have a beta so any mistakes are mine alone</p><p>Had to make up a lot of stuff about training for this chapter but idc! LOL. I did as much research as I could but there isn’t much info on some of the maneuvers and I modified the Skywalker Swoop straight from A New Hope and made up the Antilles Intercept from some common flight maneuvers. Also changed a bit of the canon history of black squadron. whoops. Leave a comment if you’re enjoying this and come say hi on tumblr @ rebelhan!</p>
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